


The Darkest Corner in the Library

by MsMiaMimi (Mc_Mimi)



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Erik Has Feelings, Fluff and Humor, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, I missed these tags, M/M, and monsters, oh my, reposted fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:22:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27586703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mc_Mimi/pseuds/MsMiaMimi
Summary: Based on thispostabout a Vampire waking up and hanging out in a library.Erik is a cranky professor and Charles is a chipper old vampire pretending to be a student. Hank is just hanging in there for the credit and maybe immortality. Whichever comes first.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Comments: 7
Kudos: 42





	1. I Awoke with a cramp…

**Author's Note:**

> First posted in 2017.

Charles tends to his little corner of higher learning late in the evening. Over the years he’s seen many things and met many people, but his favorite thing is watching the simple wonder of children. They call him Prof X and he has his regulars who gift him with new treasures. Sometimes books and magazines from sunny parts he can’t reach or project posters and sighed report cards. At some point, he started getting teeth, and his friends started calling him the tooth fairy. He doesn’t mind, and on Halloween, is known to sit in his corner in a blue dress with a bag of coins. All in all, he lives a peaceful existence now without fear of persecution or experimentation.

It wasn’t always so easy, waking up as he did. And with some encouragement from his friends, he’s started keeping note of the time passed in a new journal.

* * *

_King’s College 1765:_

_Dearest Sister,_

_Until you disavow your stance to follow that Devil to Hell and back, I will be resting as our kind does, nearby in the foundations of my hall. When you inevitably come crawling back, I fully expect a formal apology for your transgressions against me, your only relative. As the one responsible for rearing you through your formative years and overseeing your gift and tutelage, I know you best. And I am certain you will see reason and return soon, and rightfully contrite._

_Yours Always, your most benign and giving Brother,_

_Lord Charles Francis Xavier._

* * *

A long sleep with powers such as his makes for interesting dreams. Charles lives out various lifetimes with imaginary companions on the astral plane. There’s the occasional psychic guest, but for the most part, he goes on sleeping unbothered and alone.

He wakes up with a start, unsure of how much time has passed and still alone in the dark of his tomb. He sits up with a sudden ache and hops down from his resting place. He never imagined he would wake up alone with a cramp. But here he is. And won’t his dear sister have to pay for leaving him in such a state! If it’s been more than a decade, he will have every right to lecture her for being so damn petty.

He stretches his legs and arches his back then twists from one side to the other. It's only after he’s bent over and touching his toes that he registers he has company. Of course, he thinks. Someone had to wake him, after all. He put himself under a very deep spell to keep out any noise from the construction above.

He finds the mind of a young man full of fear hiding just behind the slab that sealed him in. Charles sighs, “You can come out… Hank is it? I’m not going to hurt you. Please. You have only my thanks.” He pushes the feeling of trust at the boy and it returns with curiosity. Of course, the boy is a student. And no matter what year it is, Charles is certain the King’s College is still full of the best minds on the continent.

A tall, gangly young man with odd spectacles and strange excavation wear comes out with a blinding torch. “Are you real? Is this some kind of prank? Did Alex put you up to this? Are you from the theater? You’re a drama major aren’t- fuck! I can’t stand this. I can’t believe they would go this far…”

“Calm yourself, child,” says Charles. He raises a hand to his temple and projects calm where the young man is still overly anxious. He sees himself through Hank’s eyes. A starkly pale figure in threadbare fashion, covered in cobwebs. And he understands, it’s an unsettling sight. “I apologize for upsetting you. I was merely resting down here Hank. But now I’m leaving. But if you wouldn’t mind helping me, I’d be obliged to owe you a favor.”

Hank frowns, “Help you?” He looks around the tomb and then back at Charles, “What, like find a way out? I’ve got the lift working back up to the library. Um… you can come with me, it’s a dark maze down here.”

“Thank you, Hank. But directions are not what I ask for.” He smiles and does his best to make the experience of feeding on Hank as pleasant as possible.

* * *

Charles drinks just enough to feel revitalized and fixes Hank’s collar before leading him out through the doorway. He shoves the slab back in place and takes Hank by the hand while using his power of influence to keep him calm. Hank follows him wordlessly up the passage to the rickety contraption he used to get down the shaft. Charles sighs, “This is new. What happened to the ladder?”

“Rotted…” says Hank with a dreamy look on his face. “You have very pretty eyes.”

Charles rolls his pretty eyes and tugs his new friend along, “I know. I get that a lot. But before you start writing any poetry, I’ll need a few more favors and then we can discuss how best to repay you. I’m a fair man, you see. Some of the others are keen on being dark and using the gift against mortals to violent ends. I think the gift has a purpose, you see. We’re here to teach mankind, not eradicate it… oh, lookout.” He bends down and snatches up a rat. He bites into and drains it dry and feels all the better for it before chucking it away. “As I was saying. We should all be educators and benefactors to humanity. In fact, I was waiting for my sister. You would have heard of her, I’m sure. She ran off to be famous. I’m sure she’s an actress of some notoriety today.”

Hank listens and operates the contraption, sending them up level after level. He drools a little with his starry-eyed gaze, “Sister…”

“Right my sister. Raven Xavier? Or whatever she’s going by now.”

Hank shakes his head and Charles sighs, thinking things never change. He will certainly owe her a tongue lashing now. Hank stops the thing and opens the little doorway to a dark room full of bookshelves and tools. It's musty and moldy and Charles feels right at home. He walks ahead, expecting Hank to follow while in his thrall. 

“First thing, I need new fashion. What age would you say I am Hank?”

The young man looks him up and down, “Fifteen?”

Charles balks, “Well maybe to giants! I passed over as a full-grown man, you know. Well over twenty-five years. In my day, we were all about this height. It’s perfectly respectable.” He chuffs and fixes his collar, “So I’ll need attire befitting a man my status. Come along Hank. And you will help me procure it. Tell me, Hank, where do you sleep?”

“In my apartment.”

Charles, nods, “Yes, and is that a long way from here?”

Hank shakes his head, “It’s not a long drive. I have my car today.”

Charles frowns, “Car? Is that new slang for carriage? You young lads,” he slaps Hank on the shoulder. “You’ll have to tell me everything. Come along Hank. It’s not daylight hours, is it? What’s above my tomb now?”

“Butler Library.” He looks at his wrist where a strange ornament blinks and chimes, “It’s just after six. The sun is setting.”

“A library! How delightful. And very right! And quick!” They walk up several flights of stairs and take another contraption up to the bright open floor.

Charles hisses and hides from the sunlight, “Hank. I would like very much _not_ to explode. Is there anywhere darker we can wait?”

Hank nods and leads him back. They pass a handful of curiously dressed characters. Charles dabs at their minds and discovers they think he’s part of a theatrical production or joke. One takes out a small slab and flashes a bright light in his face. He hisses at them and Hank leads them further back to a small alcove with little light. There a young girl in trousers stares up at him with a wide grin. She giggles and points before her mother, (who’s also curiously dressed in tight-fitting trousers) leads her away.

Charles takes a seat and Hank stands before him blinking his way out of the thrall.

Charles grows tired of people whispering about the dated stranger and wipes the memory of himself from their minds and renders himself invisible. “Honestly, how rude. Hank, sit. And tell me, just what year is it?”

Hank answers with a dazed look on his face, “Two thousand and seventeen.”

Charles stares at him with mouth hanging. “Say again?”

Hank offers up his wrist and shows Charles that his strange slab has a glass displaying bright light. The time and date. “July 21, 2017. Spotify. What is Spotify?”

Hank reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small shell-like orb. He pushes it in Charles’s ear and gestures over the display and out comes a sound, a strange drumming melody and the lilting voice of a young girl singing, “Fuck you, fuck you very, very much.”

Charles yanks the thing out and pouts, “Oh dear gods. What have I done?”

* * *

Charles spends hours in the dark corner pitying himself. So much time wasted and lost over a minor thing. Years, decades, centuries! He doesn’t know where his sister is and he’s certain she never got his letter. Or perhaps she died before realizing her error and returning to him. Either way, he is so utterly alone in a completely alien world. Hank starts to leave of his own violation, but Charles clamps down on his thrall and keeps him seated. Normally, he wouldn’t abuse his powers in such a way, but the young man is his only link to the living world. And he needs him.

When the minds start to clear out, Charles finally works up the nerve to leave himself. He snaps his fingers and Hank gets up. “Take me to this carriage of yours. And to your home. Do you live alone Hank?”

Hank shakes his head, “Roommates.”

“Roommates? How many?”

Hank shrugs, “Three other TA’s. We’re on the Stark scholarship. Are you sure you want to come home with me?” His eyes are a little clearer but he’s not trying to run away. “I’m not sure it’s the best place for someone of your… countenance. There’s UV lamps and um, silver in running experiments. I’m not mistaken, am I? You are…,” he touches his neck carefully where it's healed. “Some kind of vampire, right?”

Charles nods, “Are we common in the future?”

“You’re a fairytale.” Hank frowns at him and leans forward, “A horror story. No one would believe this if I told them. But you said you had a sister? There are others?”

Charles sobs a little and wipes his eyes, thinking sadly of his old life. “There was. But few and far between all that time ago. I can’t see us surviving this future for long. I’m only alive because I’m stubborn.”

“I’d call that a strength,” says Hank reaching out to hold Charles’s hand.

Charles pulls away and corrects him, “No, really. I’m just a stubborn, controlling old man. I didn’t want my sister to run off with a delinquent lover and commit wrongdoings with her gift. So, I locked myself away, thinking she’d come back posthaste to free me. She always does, you see. She hates it when I’m alone. But she didn’t come back. She left me this time… and now I’m here. Alone.” He sobs into his hands and Hank gets up from his seat.

He pulls out a set of keys and jingles them, “Okay. I’ll sneak you into my rooms. But we’re going to lay down some laws.”

Charles nods, “I’m grateful for any help you can provide, friend.”

“Right. First, don’t um… bite me… anymore. Did you eat a rat down there? I have some live specimens… but they’re kind of pets. So um…”

“I can eat them.”

“No!” Hank leans away frowning. “Please don’t! I’ll find something for you. Do you need fresh blood of any particular condition? I could get some from the med labs. And you’d have to promise not to eat my friends either.”

That doesn’t sound appetizing but Charles nods, “Yes, fine. But I don’t ‘eat’ people. And I do ask first. Usually way beforehand. I’m very weak right now. It’s been such a long age.” He starts to sit up, demonstrating the fact that he hasn’t the strength to hunt down anyone unwilling. 

In fact, he’s so weak the change of orientation sends what little blood he has, rushing to his legs a bit too fast. And Charles falls over, eyes closing to the darkness.

* * *

Charles wakes up to another cramp in his leg. He jolts upward to reach out to it, but his head collides with someone else’s.

“For frick’s sake dude!”

Charles opens his eyes to the sight of a young man with long ginger hair and more freckles than his own. “I beg your pardon?”

The young man falls back on the floor crossing his fingers before himself, “Don’t! Don’t do it, man! I ate so much garlic for dinner!” He exhales harshly and huffs out at Charles. 

Charles waves his hand, “Yes, that’s fine. I’d recommend you wash that down with something less off-putting.” He looks around the small room. Calling it a room feels over-generous. It’s more of a small box, covered in smaller boxes and books and loose paper. “Where am I?”

“Hank’s place.” The young man gets up and brushes himself off but keeps his distance. “He said if you woke up before he got back, that… well, I’m to keep you in here. He was pretty sure you wouldn’t just eat me. So that’s cool of you.”

Charles still feels lightheaded. “I promised not to attack anyone, yes. But I am very weak. Is he seeking an alternative as he promised?” He lays back down on the bed and shuts his eyes.

The young man shuffles closer, “Yeah. I’m Sean by the way.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Sean.” Charles opens his eyes to give him a tired smile. “And thank you for looking after me. Is it dark outside?”

Sean nods and opens the one window. There’s strange light filtering in and honking noises. “It’s ten o’clock. You’re not going to slip out the window and feed on co-eds are you?” 

Charles sighs and closes his eyes again. He tries to use his powers, but he feels too weak for even that. He exhausted himself hiding in the library. “No. I haven’t the strength. I think I’m dying,” he says honestly.

Sean shuffles closer. “But you bit Hank earlier?”

“Just to wake up. And I had a bad cramp in my leg. It's back now. I’m just so tired. I overdid things,” he sighs again and laments his situation.

Then Sean does something utterly peculiar. He comes closer to the bed and throws his arm out, and presses his wrist to Charles’s nose. It hurts a little and his hand smells of garlic. Charles recoils and the boy screams and scares himself. He falls over and crosses his fingers again. “What the fuck!”

“Indeed!” Charles sits up and stares at him, “Why are you attacking my nose?”

“Cause you… I’m not…” He crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. “I’m trying to feed you, you loopy bastard.”

“Oh,” says Charles. “Well, I’m sure that’s not necessary. But thank you. It was a nice thought. I’ll owe you a favor as well.”

“What kind of favor?”

“Usually knowledge of some kind. But times being what they are, I don’t know what I could give you.”

“Don’t sweat it, man.” Sean leans forward and looks at him up and down, “You’re about the same size and shape as Scotty huh? Do you want out of those duds? I could get you some sleeping stuff from Alex’s room. His little brother left some things on his visit.”

Charles nods, “That’d be much appreciated. Is there a bath where I can clean up? Would you mind fetching my water?”

“Fetching… Dude, we share one bathroom on this floor. And you can fetch your own water. Well, I could fill the tub I guess.” He shrugs and stands up and offers his hand. “Come on.” He takes Charles out into a small hallway and points to two other doors, “My room. Alex and Darwin’s room. They got the big bedroom.” He shows Charles the greater living room they all share, the kitchen, and then the bathroom. The home is full of books, devices, whirring things, a little machine runs across the carpeted floor in the living room into the kitchen. Charles bends down to get a closer look at a collection of running beakers and flasks. Sean pats Charles on the shoulder and leads him away, “The front door is that way, and we use that other bedroom there as storage. It’s just Christmas decorations and old lab gear. Maybe we could dust it out and put you a cot in there.”

Charles shakes his head, “I’d hate to be a burden. I’m already piling on debts.”

“It’s no problem-o bro.” Charles might not have the strength to probe but he likes the blanket aura of ease and caring he feels from Sean. Once the fear dissipates, he’s an absolute pleasure. He shows Charles how to work their indoor plumbing and leaves him with the bath filling and a bundle of worn cotton clothes. 

Charles undresses with stiff limbs and stares at himself in the mirror under their artificial lighting. It's harsh and hurts his eyes as much as the sight of himself does. He jumps when he realizes he sees himself, “What in the devil!” He reaches out to touch the glass. “There’s no silver?” He smiles briefly before turning away from the monster staring back at him and climbs into the tub. It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen, built into the wall and made of something flimsy. But the water is warm and the heat helps him relax. His old, leathery skin and brittle bones fill closer to alive, even without the blood.

He dozes off in the water for a long time. When he wakes he finally climbs out and dresses in the gray and red, plaid sleepwear.

He goes to explore the house and finds Sean in front of a bright slab with moving pictures. Charles walks up to him on quiet feet. “What is that?”

Sean doesn’t leap away or jump this time. He moves over on the sofa, “That is Godzilla. A classic in Japanese cinema.”

“Japanese?” Charles marvels at it and sits down to watch a giant lizard creature stomp around breath fire on enterprising young workers desperate to survive its attack. Charles sits through it quietly asking the odd question about the vehicles and the way people are dressed. “Is Japanese our common tongue now?”

Sean laughs and shakes his head, “Nah, man. This is America. The official wordage is English, but it’s the melting pot, you know. There’s a little of everything. And a lot of Spanish. Como se dice?”

Charles smiles at that, “¿Qué quieres saber exactamente?”

Sean’s face falls. “Nevermind. I never got past one class in middle school.”

Charles frowns at that, even more questions piling up in his head. But he doesn’t ask. Sean is a nice enough chap, but he’s not a fountain of knowledge. “Do you know how long Hank will be?”

Sean gives him a worried look, “Fading huh? Look, if you promise not to hurt me… I don’t mind.” He offers his wrist again and Charles shakes his head. 

They sit in silence a while longer before the door bursts open. And Hank is pushed in roughly by an older man. “That’s the last strike, McCoy. I’ve told you before about sneaking around. If you’re trying to get yourself kicked out, that’s the right way!”

Charles climbs up to his feet, “What is this? Hank are you alright?”

Hank looks downtrodden and bows his head, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t get anything. Professor Lehnsherr caught me.”

Charles looks to the man throwing Hank around. “How rude! How dare you come in this young man’s domicile and assault him without justification!”

“Without justification?!” The man bellows. “He was stealing blood! From MacTaggart’s lab no less. Am I to stand around while my own assistant meddles with my colleagues’ property! And who the fuck are you, anyway?” He looks Charles up and down, “Oh for god’s sake. Not another damn relative. This is not a flophouse for gay little brothers. Who do you belong to, hm?”

"Myself, sir. And I'm no _child_ , for blasted sake!"

Hank tries to press himself between his teacher, "That's enough everyone please, don't make such a scene Mr. Lehnsher!"

The unkind teacher looks ready to bellow again but Charles moves first. Given how kind Hank and Sean have been, he’d hate to cause any problems with their stay at the university. With that thought, Charles leaps upward and ignores Sean and Hank’s screams while wrapping his legs around the tall teacher’s waist and sinks his teeth into his neck. He almost blacks out from the sudden bliss of it.

“OH MY GOD!” Hank tries to pry him off but fails to do more than entangle himself.

Sean screams before pulling out a slab from his pocket, shouting numbers, “911! I have an emergency!”

Charles and the man fall to the floor and Hank keeps pulling his shoulder. "OH GOD!"

Charles keeps ignoring them while he drinks just enough to knock the man unconscious. He feels his heart slowing and pulls away to look him in the eye.

“I’m not going to hurt you, understand.”

Hank lets go and waves his hand, “Wait, Sean! Wait!”

Sean puts his thing down and comes over, kneeling on the floor beside them. “You promised!”

Charles keeps his eyes on the man. The fresh blood gives him a little more strength, to dive into his mind. “Erik. That’s a lovely name. May I call you Erik?” He sits on Erik’s chest and looks into his eyes while rubbing his fingers over the bite mark while it slowly closes.

Erik sighs with a small smile on his face, “Oh yes. You have really pretty eyes.”

Charles slaps him on the face to get him to focus. “Erik, I need you to forget tonight. Bury it in your skull. You’re going home, but not before apologizing to Hank, understand.”

Erik frowns at the concept, being somewhat resistant to Charles. “But he’s an idiot.”

“Hey!”

Charles gives Hank a sympathetic look, “I’ve had harsh teachers myself. I’m sorry you saw that, but I can’t let him expel you on my behalf.” He turns to Erik when the man reaches up to pet his chest. “Stop that. I do not dally with thralls.”

“Dilly dally,” says Erik with a goofy grin. “You have such pretty eyes.”

Charles gets up, feeling very refreshed but annoyed. “We should put him somewhere until he recovers. It may be a while. I’ll clear myself and this whole incident from his mind.”

Sean’s strange thing chimes and he answers it. “What? Oh no, just a prank call. I know, I know. Sorry. I’m so drunk, but not driving or anything, so goodbye. And sorry.” He tosses the thing on the couch. “Man, I hope the police don’t show up. I’m not explaining this.”

Hank nods in agreement, “That was terrible, Charles. What on earth were you thinking?”

Charles tries to look sorry for his actions, but he has to kick away Erik’s roaming hands. “I wasn’t thinking of inconveniencing you, I swear. I was only… oi! Would you stop that!” He kicks Erik in the side and steps over him. “Is he in heat or something? I don’t usually have such a strong effect on people.”

Sean barks out a laugh, “I don’t know man. Maybe it’s your suck skills,” he laughs harder at his own joke while bending down to help Hank move their teacher. “Let’s leave him in Darwin and Alex’s bed! They’re not coming home for a few days.”

Hank agrees to it and together they leave their teacher flopped on his belly and shuts the door.

“You seem better anyway.”

Charles stretches, “I feel better. It’s always nice to have a willing participant.”

“How was he willing? You jumped his neck!”

Charles raises his brow and looks down at himself, “He was already thinking the most obscene things about me when he laid eyes on me. That helps. I’ve always had an easy time drawing in old sodomites.”

Sean makes a face, “What like bugs?”

“Not termites, idiot.” Hank grabs Charles by the hand and pulls him back to his room. “Look I need you just stay put for a little while, okay. And wipe your mouth off. I’m going to call Lehnsherr a cab and get him home. Just stay in here and don’t bite anyone else. Please.”

Charles nods, “Sean keeps asking for it.”

“No!” He opens the door and shouts down the hall, “Sean! Keep your blood to yourself!” He steps out and points around the room, “You can read whatever you want, just please don’t escape and go terrorizing the city or something. I don’t need that on my conscience while I’m writing my dissertation.” He slams the door and Charles is left alone to notice there are quite a few books in the room of various subjects. He could perhaps catch up on the times that way. 

He settles on Hank’s bed with a copy of something called Popular Mechanics.


	2. Modern Life

In the space of two days, Charles is pushed to acclimate quickly so he can leave the apartment before the other roommates return. According to Sean, Darwin will likely accept his status as… Undead. But his partner Alex will likely be more alarmed. With that in mind, they’re all rushing to find Charles a new place to live while teaching him about the modern landscape and how to traverse it without inciting a witch hunt.

Seven hours until D-Day, as Hank calls it, and Charles has consumed large volumes of media from the miraculous Internet of Webs. But he still has not found Raven, others like himself, or any trace of his holdings.

He sits on the couch with Sean while wearing more cast-offs from the unseen little brother. They’re a little tight but mostly comfortable. Still, Charles would like to buy some new things. He could simply walk into a tailor and take what he wants, but it's unethical. And he has enough debts and sins to pay for, and he rather not try fate’s patience any more than he already has.

“Damn it,” says Charles putting away the computer, “This is why I never used to sleep for more than a decade at a time. Banks are ridiculous.”

Sean picks up where he left off, “Well we can’t just make up an account that says ‘Dude born in 1700’. And you can’t claim your old money and shit after so long. It probably went to the relatives. Or the state. How much money did you have stashed away?”

Charles sighs, “Well. I had about several thousand pounds, two bags of black pearls, and thirty ingots of gold. I rarely used those paper notes. Didn't trust them.”

Sean stares at him. “You had like buried treasure. But you kept it in the bank. You suck at being a pirate, dude.”

“I’m no damn pirate!” Charles crosses his arms and pouts. He sinks in the chair, “I _was_ a landowner. And I see now that all my homes, property belong to strangers and governments. Unless… Perhaps Raven is using a pseudonym in her old age! She might still be alive!”

Sean shrugs, “I’ll try and find out what I can. But Hank is going to be so pissed if we don’t at least put you in a motel or something. And none of us have the kind cash to support you, you know man. Student loans.”

Charles sighs and paces the floor in front of the couch, wracking his brain for answers. He snaps his fingers as a thought finally bubbles up and runs into Hank’s room. He comes back out with his dress shirt, decaying and fraying at the edges. “Sean, does that thing tell you How much antiques are worth?”

Sean looks at his clothes. “Bro, there’s vintage and there’s straight-up skanky. I can’t even see a hipster art major wearing that anywhere.”

Charles rolls his eyes, “And the pearls and gold?”

“Pearls?” Sean looks up with interest and Charles tosses the shirt. “Holy shit! Are you saying all these button things are real?!”

Charles nods. 

Sean bursts, “I’m gonna get Alex’s scale!”

Charles watches him go and starts to dismember the remains of his fine suit.

Hank returns to find Charles and Sean melting the gold down with his metallurgy equipment. And being an adaptive chap, he doesn’t even question it. He sighs, and resigns himself to help.

* * *

Charles hands it over, “This is miserable. I shall have to find occupation immediately.”

“Yeah. Your broke-ness is making _me_ want to get a job. But not really. Look I made a little resume for night work at a temp service,” says Sean. “But I don’t know how far you’d get without any ID.”

Charles sighs, “I’ll have to do something unscrupulous. I just know it. But in the end, my debt to you will be square.” He goes back to the couch and sits down in the middle while Sean sits on the floor and Hank balances on the arm. “I need to get out tonight. I’m hungry, and the supplements you’ve given me are good enough to keep me upright, but I have to replace all the dead cells with living ones.” He goes on to explain what he’s learned about his metabolism over the centuries, what he extrapolated from myth, and what he knows works and doesn’t work. Sean stares with the same look he gave Godzilla and Hank looks curious. Curious and possibly aroused.

Hank sits close to Charles and stares at his eyes, “Amazing. Then for months at a time, you are up and eating and drinking like a normal person. Just as long as the living blood cell circulates in your system. But you can’t make cells on your own? That sounds like one hell of an anemia. Dr. Jensen is working on an experiment for blood deficiencies. Maybe she can help.”

“Oh, please Hank.” Charles holds his eyes and forces his will a little, “Do not tell people what I am. They simply wouldn’t understand.”

Sean raises his hand, “Some people might. Like I’m cool with it.”

“You are a singular, Sean.” Charles pats the youth on the head, “Truly a wonder. I’ve never met anyone with your calm.”

Sean nods, “So much weed.”

Charles nods along, "Something is working marvels on you. Do carry on."

Hank rolls his eyes, "Please. Don't encourage him." 

* * *

Hank ends up paying for Charles to room in a nearby motel. 

It’s the best they can come up with at that point. Charles sighs as he takes in his new room, “This is even sadder than your dwelling.”

“I know,” sighs Hank. He drops two bags near the doorway. He and Sean were generous enough to buy him modern toiletries and give him a few undershirts and loose trousers called jogging pants. Hank paces the room and inspects it quickly and somehow deems it good enough. Even though it obviously is not. “We need to ease Darwin and Alex into introductions. We can’t just spring the idea of having a vampire roommate on them. They’re just not as chill as Sean.”

“Chill?” Charles stares at a collection of suspicious stains on the bed’s duvet. “That’s regretful. However,” he adds while turning up his personal charm and smiling warmly at Hank. He takes Hank by the hand, “I am thankful for everything you’ve done. You needn’t continue to worry yourself. I will survive this and pay you back in full. And you will find that I’m a very good friend.”

Hank suddenly sobs, “No, man. You don’t have to do that!”

“I beg your pardon?”

Hank turns away, “You don’t have to offer yourself up like that for money, man!”

Ah, thinks Charles. Here he was thinking of genuine affection and his new friend misunderstood it because (and quick dive into his mind confirms it) he is a bit touch-starved and desperate. “No, Hank.” Says Charles gently, “I am not going to prostitute myself to you. Or anyone else. That would be in the ‘bad idea’ pile that Sean was collecting.”

“Right,” says Hank with a sniffle. “My bad.”

“Indeed.” Charles puts some space between them. He evaluates a chair by the door and deems it just safe enough to sit on the arm of it. “Sean gave me an application for cleaning up at university late at night. He thinks it’ll go right through for some reason.” It’s not what Charles would normally look for in employment, but oh well. “I have to continue trying to contact my sister. Is there any way I could procure a telephonic slab?”

“A cell phone.”

“Do you think I could call her if I look for her number? Does every human have a designation at birth now?”

Hank makes an unreadable face, “In a way… but not for phones.” He shakes his head, “Fine. I’ll buy you a burner in the morning. Just stay here and stay quiet and don’t eat anyone until I get back.” He huffs back to the door and Charles gets an unfavorable feeling that he’s thought of as a troublesome pet. “Do not go out. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200?”

Charles tilts, “But I thought I needed the money.”

Hank gives him a half-smile before leaving him in the strange space. An insect immediately climbs across the door.

Charles sighs “I suppose it’s back to basics.”

* * *

Time slows to a crawl. The moon is halfway across the sky and Charles feels like dying all over again. He puts away his things and inspects the bedding for pests and freezes up when he realizes there’s no rope under the mattress at all. “Another marvel!” He hadn’t put much thought into it while at Hank’s but modern bedding has come a long, long way. “No ropes! Perhaps they’ve done away with red coats entirely!” He flops on the bed and hops around grinning from ear to ear. “Fantastic news! No need to sleep tight’ now!” He so enjoys the new knowledge and strange bounciness that he forgets the dubious condition of the bedding and lays down.

A half-hour later he feels a familiar, burning itch. “Ah. Never mind.”

More time confirms that there is an infestation of pests in the bedding, but Charles knows from experience they will eventually drop off his skin and die. He wonders if he should let his new scientist friend know about all the unique properties he’s noted about the effects of his blood, but doubts he’ll enjoy being the subject of an experiment. Even a well-meaning one orchestrated by a sad and lonely boy.

Charles gives up on the bed and tries the lavatory. The bath is similar to Hanks, if irrepressibly Green. And there are towels and washcloths. Hank already warned him to only use the ones provided by Sean in the bags. Charles decides to clean up and take a long shower. Afterward, he’s back to feeling bored. The pest bites have already healed and faded but he can’t muster enough courage to go back to bed. He then notices the flat black slab mounted to the wall opposite the bed. He turns the television on and searches for something to keep his interest. He fails, finding strange images of an insane talking sponge, then several talking horses. He turns the mad machine off.

“What I need is a good book. _Oh_!” Once conceived the idea makes all the sense in the world. He’ll just go back to his old dwelling. At this rate, he rather spend the night in the crypt, than lose the little blood he has left to parasites. And who’s to say he won’t find an amicable snack?”

Charles makes up his mind and dashes out the door, with little more than the voices and memories from passerby's and motel shut-ins to guide him back to the library. He’s almost made it to the front steps when a huddle of earnestly overworked minds come out the doors. He passes them and a night watchman and a young woman who takes one look at him and scowls. “We’re closed.”

Charles smiles and waves his hand, “Not for me.”

“Oh.” Mouths the young woman, she blinks and frowns, looking very put-out for the realization. “I see. Do not eat in here," she commands. She nods to herself while staring in the distance and leaves. The nightwatchman gives a Charles smile before following a subtle order to make sure he’s not disturbed.

Charles settles down in the seats he occupied on his first day out and pulls down the nearest book. “The Hate You Give by Angie Thomas.” He curls up in the chair and starts reading, intending to finish this and maybe a few other tomes before sunrise and get back to the motel before Hank checks in on him.

He’s a sobbing mess at one point, lost in the narrative and struggle of a child facing so much conflict when he hears an out-of-place thought. “ _Once more, then_ ,” thinks someone from up high. Then the thought is clouded. He marks his page and leaves the book to go follow. He thought he’d be alone after hours, but if someone is present, he can have options. Perhaps dinner. He’s hopeful while he climbs the stairs, covering himself in a psychic cloak of invisibility.

“What are you doing here?”

Charles freezes. It’s the irascible professor that fancies him, wearing a strange helmet on his head. “Um,” is all he can mutter. He can’t see anything. He can’t feel anything from the man before him, he may as well be hollow. Charles narrows his eyes at the helmet. “Oh, that is ugly.”

Erik scoffs, “Fine for you to say! It’s a prototype after all.” The man removes the helmet and Charles is free to do as he wishes. But he doesn’t. He holds out for some unnamable reason. Erik is surrounded by tools and books on metallurgy and psychic phenomena. “Do I know you?”

Charles smiles and bats his eyelashes, “You don’t remember?”

“Are you a student?”

Charles freezes. That’s not the right direction at all. “No. Wait a moment. It’ll come to you.”

“You’re one of Moira’s aren’t you? You have that,” he gestures vaguely in a circular motion, “… air of irresponsible stupidity that she likes to collect and coddle.” 

“I beg your pardon?"

“It doesn't matter. You’re not my problem. I have actual work to do. Toddle off, brat.”

Well, there goes his theory of being fancied. Charles clears his throat, “I won’t fault your misguided prejudice. I’m bigger than that.”

Erik smiles like a damn unnamable but familiar predator of the seas. “No, you really aren’t.” He moves in closer just to tower over Charles. “Aren’t you up past your bedtime?”

“You’re deliberately trying to provoke a reaction from me.” Charles calms himself down and assesses the mind, cheating just enough to run his own evaluation. “Ah. You are an Outsider. You’re what the kids these days call an edge lord.” He raises his brow and looks pointedly down at Erik's feet, “Possibly to overcompensate for failed expectations. I surmise you have no partner, live alone or with an overbearing parent, and frequently troll the internets to victimize via anonymity.”

Erik grins harder, “What language _are_ you speaking?”

Charles’s confidence in his assessment wanes. He shores himself up, “You are an… um… you know.”

“I know?”

Charles takes a step back, not to retreat mind you, just rebuilding his defenses. He's taken in a _lot of_ information in the last few days, he cannot help things being a little muddled in his own head while he makes sense of it all. “An Incel!”

Erik laughs out loud. “What?”

“Ah, um.” He looks the man up and down and checks his references. No, he concludes. That was probably the wrong word. “Well. You’re really insecure about… something. I know that much!” He stands a little straighter and points a finger (aiming to maximize his own rudeness) and pokes the other man in the chest. Only to find it annoyingly firm and well-muscled. “You treat your peers and wards under your tutelage badly. That’s all I need to know of you. You’re a horrid little man.”

That lands with some impact. Erik recoils, and mentally Charles can feel him shoring up high walls against attack. “Whatever. You mewling, little undergrad. Get out before I call campus police.”

He retreats to his work and sets the helmet back on his head before Charles and judge whether he’s gone too far. By the way, Erik's shoulders slump, he thinks it’s a possibility. He may have hit, hammered, and assaulted the man’s nerves. But it doesn’t matter, reasons Charles. Erik is horrible. And Charles does not like him. It is as simple as that. He starts to climb back down to curl around his book again and dutifully ignore the man’s presence in his little sanctuary when a loud ringing breaks their uneasy silence. 

Erik sighs and answers his slab with his head down, “Shaw? I know, sir. I’m late. I’ll be back soon. I just needed a moment to myself. Yes sir. Goodbye.” He quietly goes back to work and ignores Charles while he stares from the railing. Charles waits until the man removes his helmet again for an adjustment and dives, quickly and deeply. And oh. There’s so much buried under the thick layers of his surface thoughts. Charles cloaks himself again and gives Erik the impression to leave the helmet off.

He spends the night on the staircase, standing guard for a man he doesn’t like in a time when monsters should have died out.


End file.
